Of The Recovery of Roy Mustang
by Pishivee
Summary: This story is based on what happens in the last episode, and as the title suggests, what happens to Mustang. If you read all the way to the end, you might find it good. My stats tell me more people read the beginning than the end.
1. Awakening

knowledge of Fullmetal Alchemist is required for this story and it helps to have seen the last episode of the entire show.

**HUGE SPOILERS**! THIS **WHOLE** STORY ISA **SPOILER** IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST EPISODE OF **FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST**!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.

OF THE RECOVERY OF ROY MUSTANG

Darkness.

Where am I? Have I ...died? I hear ...a voice.

"...talk to me!"

I'm sorry. I don't know how.

* * *

The Fuhrer is dead. I killed him. He wasn't human. Homunculus. The Ultimate Eye.

Why can't I wake up?

* * *

I feel very weak. Oh! I can feel! I can feel pain. Ugh, do I want to feel again? Damn, it hurts. It hurts to breathe.

"Mustang?"

Hey, that's my name.

"Roy Mustang?"

I hear you. I hear you. Don't you know that? I'll try to answer you.

"Who...?" Pain.

"Roy, you can hear me?"

I nod my head. Bad idea! The left side of my face erupts like little fireworks of searing pain. I can't even grit my teeth because of my disabled left side.

"Please, don't do that again. For your safety, I will tell you the extent of you injuries."

At least the voice knows I'm listening.

"I can't say how everything happened because the two men who nearly killed you are dead..."

_That's right. I killed Bradley. That nutcase Frank Archer shot me and that's when everything went black._

"...a close call. His sword punctured you above the heart and he tore many muscles and arteries in the process of giving you a painful death. There are other cuts elsewhere on your body, and although some of them were also deep, it's very strange that you lost surprisingly little blood from wounds of that nature.

"About your head, sir. It appears that Colonel Archer shot the left side of your face in several places. One was aimed for your eye. That would have had the potential to kill you from shock, but it looks like the bullet missed its target. I do deem there is more to this story. Perhaps he didn't shoot the other side of your face for a reason? Also, if he intended to kill you, I would imagine he would have aimed for the top of your head. Forgive me; it's really not my place, sir.

"I am sorry, sir, but we know for certain you will never see out of that eye again."

The voice went on to say that my left side will be very weak, and occasionally sore, for a couple of months due to my heart wound. I am informed my head injury will heal much quicker, and the reason I can't see is because there is a bandage around my head. I will most likely be bedridden for quite a while because my heart isn't strong enough to support me if I stood, much less walked. In a note of finality, the nurse (who I finally evaluated as a female) told me I am expected to make a full recovery, despite the severity of my situation. And my diet will consist of mushy things, thanks to my damaged jaw. If I can't feed myself, I have lost all of my dignity. But I am alive.

* * *

I have heard that automail surgery is intensely painful. There are adults who cower at thought of that pain. Rehabilitation is supposed to be very long, about a year to three years long. Quite metaphorical to my condition.

If Edward Elric can do it, I can too. After all, who am I to be shown up by some kid?

* * *

Oh, it's so bright! Today I open my eye for what feels like the first time in years.

I'm dressed in hospital clothes, but I can feel that I am still heavily bandaged underneath.

I see many cards on a bed stand and a few flowers, too. As I reach out with my right arm I notice it aches, but the pain has receded a bit. There are cards from my favorite officers, Second Lieutenant Breda, Warrant Officer Falman, Master Sergeant Fuery, and Second Lieutenant Havoc. Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong and his family, along with Maes Hughes' wife Gracia, have sent flowers. One get-well-wisher that touched me was Winry Rockbell and her grandmother, Pinako. It surprises me that they sent something because I am the reason Winry's parents died in the Ishvaran War. Their ill will must have abated.

There are many other letters from many other people, some whom I don't know. I guess the story about the corruption of the military got out. There are many "Thank you's!" and other displays of gratitude for what I did.

There is one disappointment. I found no card from Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

I stare out the window, recognizing from the view that I must be in the Central Military Hospital. It's been a while since I've been a patient here.

Suddenly, I get that weird feeling someone is watching me. I have to turn all the way around to see that blind spot. Sitting on a chair is the First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. I know that hospital doors in this building are slightly heavy. If I didn't hear her come in, she must have been sitting there since before I woke up or maybe I'm going deaf.

"Hawkeye," I mustered.

"I hear you're expected to make a full recovery, _General_ Mustang," she says, and to alleviate my confusion, "You've been voted by the military personnel to become the next Fuhrer President. Congratulations, your dream has come true."

Wow. That's stunning. Truly. "But…," I began.

"Please don't talk, sir. You're not well enough to argue. I just hope you don't _really_ plan to change the dress code. You're going to lose a lot of respect from the female officers if you do that, sir."

That made me laugh. I couldn't stop for a while, even though I was sure my heart would fail. But I was finally the Fuhrer! It has been my dream ever since the Ishvaran War to become the Fuhrer. I wanted to stop the senseless fighting. When I learned the truth behind the corruption of the military, how the previous Fuhrer started wars just to assemble the Philosopher's Stone, I was determined to stop at nothing to attain my dream, or at least to crumble the leadership into nothing. Brigadier General Maes Hughes and my dear Hawkeye have helped me in this quest.

The laughing transformed abruptly into coughing, and then I finally got a hold of myself. I took a deep breath.

"You didn't write me or send me anything," I managed.

"Col—I mean General, sir," she spoke slowly, "I wanted to come in person."

"A telegram," I mused, "let's hear it."

"Sir, Colonel Archer was on his way to the Fuhrer's mansion when his car collided with ours. The guards mentioned they were taking me to Central for interrogations. He said something like "Have you _seen_ Central?" We learned later it was damaged pretty badly, mostly because of Archer. Izumi Curtis' original damage to it is what set off Archer on a rampage to find her. She's the Elric's teacher by the way.

"Anyway, he continued toward the mansion, after firing at me and calling me a traitor."

Here she displayed for me a bullet wound on her upper right arm. She says it only grazed her. Then she began again.

"We didn't notice the Fuhrer's kid leave, but obviously he got there much faster than Archer did. I followed Archer, although he moved quickly with those mechanic attachments. I can only ask you to forgive me, sir, for not getting there sooner to protect you. I killed Archer, and as soon as he fell I could see you had fallen, too. I thought for sure you were dead, you lost so much blood."

Her eyes were filling with tears now. For some reason, there was a lump in my throat as well. I motioned for her to come closer, afraid that if I spoke above a whisper I would start crying.

"Riza," I said, and she and I both knew we very rarely called each other by first name, "it's not…your fault."

She laughed a bit, now crying, and joked, "I think you have a guardian angel, Roy. And it's most likely Maes Hughes."

That put a funny picture in my mind. I chuckled, thinking of Hughes saying, "I'll spare your life, only if you promise to go visit my daughter as often as you can! And be nice to my wife! Oh! I'll let you live if you promise to get a wife, okay? I mean, I can't very well let you live _just_ so you can be Fuhrer, now can I?"

_You jester, Hughes. Well, I'll get around to it. Just wait until I can walk by myself so I can go buy a ring._

I looked at Riza for a moment, sitting there on my bed. It suddenly occurred to me. "What time is it?"

"Sir, you've been sleeping for about a week, and this second week you've been regaining control over your body, sleeping on and off. It's no surprise; your body is highly anemic. Along with confronting blood loss, it's also working to heal your wounds. You've been talking a lot in your sleep."

_Regaining control?_ "Please don't tell me… nevermind." I looked over at the various devices connected to me. _Whatever._

"Now that your jaw has healed some, the doctors want to feed you tougher foods. They say exercising the jaw will help it recover faster. And now that you are more conscious, it will be easier for them."

"You mean easier for them to baby me? My right arm works pretty well."

"Roy Mustang, most foods require two hands to manipulate. You've lost a fair amount of weight and they want to help you before you die of something less noble than battle wounds."

"Well, if utilizing things helps heal them, why can't I just use both arms?"

"Sir, you can try, but don't push yourself. Maybe you don't know the true extent of your weakness?"

"Alright, Lieutenant, give me something to hold in my left hand."

She looked at me and said unceremoniously, "Just try moving your fingers first, sir."

It proved to be a tougher task than I had imagined. Upon seeing me strain to do this, Riza said with a pitying smile, "Do you believe me now, sir?"

"Hawkeye," I said, frustrated, "when I can move my arm and fingers with no effort, can you promise me that you will tell the doctors to give me some space?"

"Sir," she said bluntly, "why don't you ask them yourself?"

I suddenly felt devoid of energy.

"Riza, what happened to his boy?"

Hesitating, she finally answered, "He is dead, sir. Autopsy show it was related to suffocation. Was he choked, sir?"

I said yes, remembering the look on the Homunculus' face when he heard his son say he rescued something "precious" that belonged to Bradley from the fire.

"That clears it up, then. He was choked, and along with the smoke from the fire and when you fell on top of him after Archer shot you, he suffocated."

I will always be grateful for that kid. "That boy… held the key to defeating Bradley. His…remains…You make it sound like it was my fault he died." I didn't want to talk anymore. I was tired. I closed my eye. But Riza continued.

"Not at all, sir. Don't think that way. You look tired, but there's one last thing I want to discuss. Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's about Archer. It's peculiar that he aimed only for your head. In Central, it appears he went insane, or maybe he was trying to destroy as much as he could." She mumbled what sounded like _well, that's pretty much an insane act anyway._

"Back on the subject, as I said earlier, he claimed he was heading toward the mansion to protect the Fuhrer. It's just…" She looked away. "In the state of mind he was in…when I look back on it, I wonder why he didn't blow you to bits. He was firing pretty randomly in Central, anyhow. It contented him to just fire at your face, I guess."

I just had to make one last comment. "There are a few people who don't like seeing my face."

She looked at me for a minute, and then burst out laughing. It was like some bright song, sung by some bird heralding the ending of winter and the beginning of spring.

"Roy," she declared before leaving, "I _know_ you're going to make a full recovery."


	2. Reunion and Retelling

knowledge of Fullmetal Alchemist is required for this story and it helps to have seen the last episode of the entire show.

i'll have everyone know i did **extensive** research on anemia and such related things to this story. I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF! sniff

* * *

HUGE SPOILERS! In fact, this whole entire next part basicallydetails the whole last episode. I forgot i wrote it that way (cause i have the story written down in a little book thing. its been a while since i've read what i've written) GO AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING!

* * *

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.

This story wasn't meant to be set in chapters, but oh well...

(author: thanks so much to the first five people who reviewed the first part i installed! Personally, i hate yaoi and improper stuff like that. So thanks for reading my story when there are so many others out there (and quite a few aren't oriented right...)...I appreciate the encouragement!Love you!

OKAY HERE WE GO, ENOUGH SHOWS OF GRATITUDE (mustang: it's about me, not you Pishivee)

* * *

"Hawkeye," I inquired one day, "where are the Elrics?" She thought for a moment. "No one has seen them for a while. Do you want me to send a letter to Resembool?"

"I'd like that." That last meeting I had with Ed felt so final. I haven't seen Alphonse in an even longer time. Did they succeed? I was sure they would have told me about something like that. What greater news is there than to say you're back in your own body?

The door opened. In walked the goon squad, chirping "Hello, General!" and "How do you feel?" and "Congrats!" I smiled weakly. I didn't know how quiet this room had been.

"Will you tell us about it, sir?" Kain Fuery asked excitedly.

"We were worried about you, you know that?" Heymans Breda said gruffly.

Vato Falman asked, "It's been three weeks now. Any improvement?"

"Can you walk yet?" Jean Havoc added.

"Boys," Lieutenant Hawkeye said sternly, "calm down! Give him some time to answer!"

I just looked at them. I sighed in relief after a moment. "I'm glad you didn't bring Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong," I told them.

They froze. "He's down the hall," whispered Havoc, "He was looking in on someone el—"

"General Mustang!" Lt. Col. Alex Louis Armstrong exclaimed in his bass voice, bursting into the room.

For my safety and to keep my hospital stay to a minimum, the other officers pleaded with that 'gentle' giant not to touch me. "After all," 2nd Lt. Breda claimed, "you always say it's a person's fault if they're weak because they're not training!"

"How do expect the poor General to train in his condition, Lt. Col.?" asked Havoc.

"You care too much, sir," Fuery said.

"Care?" I could tell Armstrong was going to go into one of his speeches. "Care?" he said, "Of course I do! Were you not concerned for him when you know his encounter with Bradley was a life-risking event? It'd be a shame to lose such a great man, don't you agree?" They grinned awkwardly.

"Uh…thank you, Lt. Col.," I stammered, feeling myself blushing.

There was silence for a bit, and then the warrant officer Falman inquired again, "Will you tell us about it, sir?"

I thought about whether I was ready to tell them or not. I decided yes. I assumed they'd already heard about what happened in Central since they returned from the north. I told them about the diversion; Hawkeye went right to the front door and I went around back, to the wine cellar.

I drew a sealing circle on the door to the cellar. When Bradley came down to investigate the noise, the door closed and stuck behind him. I confronted him immediately, each of us exchanging questions before we fought.

I shuddered, remembering that eye, but I continued (Author: reference to the way the eye rolls down).

He told me about his powers and claimed he brought greatness to this country. I told him I knew about the wars started to fuel the creation of the Philosopher's Stone. He said humans were stupid and we need the Homunculi.

Describing the fight, I recounted that I couldn't make fire for a time because his sword broke my control of the air with its swiftness. When I finally managed it, I didn't really have control over the fire and it blew up the cellar wall.

"As I lay there, I watched and listened to King Bradley talk about the fact that he's never even seen the full extent of his abilities. I watched his burned skin heal before my eyes and it was then I stated to feel desperate.

"I got up, but he caught up to me and pinned me to the wall, via _here_," I stopped, motioning at the place above my heart. I grimaced as they flinched, remembering the pain and shock I received.

They looked like they were in agony as I depicted how he slid his sword _horizontally_ in the puncture he'd made. I conveniently left out how I screamed; they could probably figure out that detail for themselves.

"Then he left me there because that's when his son ran into the room. Bradley talking soothingly to him, but then it looked like he literally froze. He asked the boy what he was holding. The kid said something about getting a treasure out of a safe to rescue it from the fire. He said he knew how much Father cared about it, that his life depended on it.

"Bradley unfroze and hot very angry. He started strangling his kid. I found the strength to remove the sword from my body. The bag the boy was holding had fallen out of his hands and onto the floor.

"I picked it up. Inside could only have been the former Fuhrer's, Bradley's, skull."

Some of the auditors cringed here. I went on to say how I drew the symbol on my gloves onto my bare hand with my blood, holding the skull with that hand.

"I finally had control over the air. He couldn't do anything to me because I held his weakness. I incinerated him. When there was nothing left of a body, I rid the world of his remains as well.

"With that accomplished, I picked up the boy and exited the house. On the doorstep, I looked up and saw a very strange silhouette approaching. My vision was getting foggy and it was hard to concentrate, but I knew I had to get away. The problem was, I couldn't go back into the house and I could never outrun this bizarre thing. I was prepared to die, that's all I can really say."

"General Mustang," Armstrong boomed, approaching me (and the rest of us feared for me because he always gets emotional with these kind of stories), "your deed will never be forgotten and you will serve as an inspiration to us all!"

I braced myself, and I was sure I would be getting out of the hospital very much later than originally planned, but he merely gently shook my hand.

"I am honored to call you General, sir," the Lt. Col. said in his sonorous tone. Despite his outbreaks and tirades, it could get to me sometimes how deeply the man cared.

"Thank you," I said quietly. He moved away. This being one of those rare times one of his orations actually affected the surrounding people, the other officers either bowed, shook my hand, or both, each watching the others in order to deduce what kind of respect to award me.

"Thanks," I restated, "but stop it already! I'm not in uniform yet." That said, I had a fleeting thought about changing the dress code to pajamas. We'd never be taken seriously again.

"Sir," said Falman, now that the slightly sappy, yet profound emotional episode was over, "you have a decision to make."

"Already?"

"Yes, but I think I know what your decision will be anyway. The State would like to know the future of the seat of power. As you are aware, the military has been in control of this country since the former Fuhrer claimed he would take over to save and better the country.

For the sake of safety and democracy, the State would like to know if you will hand the government back to it. They hope you will be content with being under them. The people are on the State's side, sir," he concluded, bowing at the neck.

I knew what he wanted me to say, what they all wanted me to say, but I let them sweat a little before answering, "Why the hell would I want to run a country?"

Smiling, the warrant officer exclaimed, "Of course, sir! I shall write a letter to inform them, but I'll need you signature."

"Sure," I said, "but you don't need to run off right this minute."

However, Falman felt it should be attended to more urgently than I realized. "No, sir," he said, "I think this should be put out immediately. This will mean a lot to the people." He left. In the month that was to follow, an official address would be delivered to the public and the power was to shift. I would get many more gratitude messages.

"That woman that changes my bandages is going to come in soon," I remembered, "I'm just warning you that she'll order you all out."

"Does it still look bad?" asked Master Sergeant Fuery.

"Bad?" said Havoc before I could answer, " I bet it's still oozing pus and everything! You wanta look at it, Fuery?"

"It is kind of gross," I admitted. The first time the nurse let me see my damage face-to-face I was instantly nauseated.

"She puts this ointment on it sometimes," I informed them, and really tried to express how it felt when I continued, "It hurts like hell. I imagine my skin is shriveling up when she does that."

"You know it's for the best, sir," Hawkeye counseled.

"Hmph," I answered in disgust, "I suppose."

As I predicted, the nurse came in, ordered my men out, changed the bandages on my head and chest (and, thank my lucky stars, didn't subject me to the mortal pain of medicines), left, and in came my comrades once again. A pungent stench always lingered in the room when my wounds were open to the air.

Now we talked about small things, discussed the future, and did some reminiscing.

No letter had been received from Resembool yet. Repairs were underway at Central Headquarters. Havoc had a new girlfriend.

It was amazing how fatigued I could still manage to become (well, maybe three weeks was hardly enough time for me to become significantly healed). And all I was doing was either laying or sitting in bed! It took me a moment to realize I was nodding. I stopped and pretended I hadn't been.

Havoc was babbling about how he thought _this_ girl might just be the one for him, including that it was me who either dragged him away from one or 'stole' his girl because there was naturally more to like about me (as if I would ever do that). When he noticed I made no comment, I guess the others had already seen my increasing weariness.

"You need your rest, sir," Armstrong and Hawkeye said nearly simultaneously.

"I can't deny it," I gave in, "Come see me again when you can."

Of Course, Sir, etc. was the general answer.

"It'll be a bit busy from now on, though," remarked the master sergeant.

"Isn't it always?" I responded. I paused, and said in solemn sincerity, "Thank you for coming to see me."

"You're welcome, man," said 2nd Lt. Havoc.

"We did want to see you for ourselves, sir," said Fuery.

"Take care of yourself, sir!" advised Armstrong.

Hawkeye just smiled. She remained after the men left.

"You know," I said, eye closed, "I need to thank you. You saved my life. Thank you for coming back." I looked at her. It appeared she was determined to stay composed. I didn't mean to make her teary again.

"Sir…I should have been there with you," she said, and this would not be the last time we'd have this conversation, "I shouldn't have allowed them to take me away. I should have been there to protect you."

"Please," I begged, "don't talk about it. That was then. Who knows? Archer could have shot us together, and then who would come just in time to save us? You did well. Let it go, Riza."

"Sir…" Her eyes shone. My eye closed, I half expected her to leave, but I heard the sound of footsteps _approaching _me.

I felt the warmth of someone's breath and immediately following that someone's lips were brushing along mine. I slowly opened my eye and looked into Riza Hawkeye's deep brown ones. In the moment, I placed my am around her and drew us closer. I have no estimate on the duration of that sweet encounter. I only know I woke up and she wasn't there. The sun was very bright outside.

_A dream, or did she kiss me to sleep?_


	3. Reminiscence

IMPORTANT: this chapter, more than any other explains what happens in the last episode. if you have seen the last ep, this chapter is a waste to read, because **nothing of significance** happens other than me **outlining the episode**. Go ahead and read it if you want though... I just had to write down everything so i wouldn't forget the ending to my ALL TIME FAVORITE ANIME/ MANGA (although the manga isn't finished in America yet...)

well, there are a couple things i added into the end, such as this letter from Resembool. In reality, Schiezka isnarrating all this stuff, which is how the viewer learnsall this stuff.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.

* * *

Later that day in the afternoon, Havoc brought me a letter. It was the reply from Resembool, from the Rockbells, and also from Izumi Curtis, who was staying with them for a time.

The reply was somewhat confusing and half disturbing. Alphonse was indeed a boy again, but he had no memories of his time spent in the suit of armor. In fact, he was ten years old when he should have been around fifteen or sixteen!

Although Winry, Izumi, Pinako, and others tried to make him remember, it seems none of these past six (author: I'm sorry, I don't know if this is right!) years' events registered in his mind. Al does like to hear about this stuff, though, they write.

A girl name Rose is going to be living with them for a while. She wrote me a letter herself. She claims we have a slight history: she met Ed on his very first mission in Lior. Apparently, she was there when Ed and Al used the Philosopher's Stone. Her letter is a very long one, detailing all that happened that night, including a woman named Dante who created and used the Homunculi. There was also talk of the Elric's father, Hohenheim of Light (I don't know why she calls him this. It's just written that way in the letter).

I finally learned all the pieces to this story. The Homunculi searched for the Stone because their selfish master needed it to stay alive. As original creators of the Stone, Hohenheim and Dante used it to attach their souls to new bodies when the current hosts started dying. Eventually, he left her and took the Stone. She did not know how to make a complete Stone, and so she had plenty of small, incomplete ones. These she fed to the Homunculi to keep them alive. Their number reached seven after a couple hundred years. The very last additions were the Elric's mother and Izumi's baby.

In the other letter, it mentions a boy named Wrath who was living in Resembool. Supposedly, he's the last Homunculus left. He represents the failed human transmutation of Izumi's baby. Automail now serves as his right arm and leftleg. Surprisingly, he didn't refuse the surgery, they wrote. However, he's run away, but there are sightings of him around Resembool and its neighboring towns every now and then.

Concerning the Fullmental Alchemist. This part of the letter is confidential. Even though Rose admits she was under Dante's spell, she still remembers everything. This information will never reach public ears (of course, it was never made public that there was body inside Al's suit of armor or that the Elrics performed a human transmutation. From the beginning, I had made Ed revise the cause of his lost limbs from human transmutation to the Civil War.

The Homunculi were going to use the Stone for themselves. Edward was killed by one called Envy. Alphonse,who had been set in a seal to activate the Philosopher's Stone, activated in himself and revived Ed, but at the cost of his mind and soul.

When Ed awoke, Rose told him his brother fixed his soul to his body with the Stone. In addition, Ed had his arm and leg back. Al was gone. In the letter, Rose said Ed asked her to take Wrath with her and leave. She obliged. Dante and the other Homunculi were gone. Rose saw Envy plunge into the light surrounding Ed while Al did the transmutation and disappear. The only one left was Ed. He never came out of that underground city (as a side-note, the letter mentioned that a secret lay under Central. It was here that all of the above events took place).

Rose did not see Dante or Gluttony (the Homunculus that left with his master) as she returned to the surface. She assumes they finished each other off because there was a hole in the lift that goes to the surface. She believes a battle had been waged between the two.

As for Alphonse, he quietly continues to study alchemy. I would learn later that he would one night approach Izumi and ask to be her apprentice again. He will ask because he wants to find Ed. At that time, he will have been told most of what happened after he and his brother lost their bodies.

Somehow, they all write, they believe Ed is still alive. I agree. It'd be too weird if that little smart-alleck were dead. Perhaps he has gotten lost. Due to what he told her, Rose believes Ed traded his body, mind, and soul for Al's body. That would make Ed some lost, wandering entity, perhaps even in another world, wouldn't it?

I think I'll miss those boys.

* * *


	4. Emotions

knowledge of Fullmetal Alchemist is required for this story and it helps to have seen the last episode of the entire show.

this chapter i REALLY need some review on!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.

* * *

After the passage of two more months, I was able to stand and walk about some. Of course, I know that my time spent bedridden would give me some degree of muscular dystrophy. Therefore, I was ordered to walk around my room as often as I had the strength to. When I asked if I could do some stretches or workouts, the doctor advised against anything too intense. With the increase of dead cells in my body, my hair and fingernails have grown considerably. The versatility of my left hand only got better as I recovered. Although it, like my legs, was weak, I could finally start to do more things for myself.

Lieutenant Hawkeye visited more frequently. Sometimes she would take over the nurses' chores, such as washing my hair or giving me support as I stood and walked.

One visit found her apologizing to me again for not being there to protect me. I explained to her the world is full of imperfections. Somehow, it gets along as best as it can with those imperfections.

"And that's what makes the world so damn beautiful," I said, looking into her eyes and stroking her cheek with my newly strengthened left hand.

She smiled, but as if to hide something, her expression changed and she shoved a piece of apple she had been cutting up into my mouth, commanding "Shut up and eat."

With that instance in mind, you can also say she fed me, something the nurses used to do. Of course, I can now do that myself. But I humored her.

Another month found me back in my own house. I still tired faster than the average person but at least I could finally walk for a relatively long time. My bandages were removed, and I wore an eye patch that was wide enough to cover the disfigured part of my face. They left the stitches on my chest, saying that that was a wound that would not easily undergo epulosis. When I asked them to share their undoubtedly large vocabulary, they translated it will take some time for a scar to form there. It had been a deep and mortal slash, after all.

Now I could bathe normally, as in a shower and a tub. Formerly, the nurses and I had to be careful not to get the wounds and bandages wet, so sponges were applied to me.

I also went into Central HQ once in a while. My first visit back I was surrounded by faithful soldiers welcoming me back. Over time I would slowly assume the duties of the Fuhrer. Right now, I could hardly sit still for more than an hour. So I did most of my work at home. Among other things, I have a new office. Now I have a window on the opposite side of the building.

For years, out of sheer habit, I would use Riza Hawkeye as my personal advisor. Thus, I took her everywhere with me. Now that she had other things and people to attend to, her absence from my side was weird. Originally, the reason I kept her around more than the rest of my staff was simply because she has better judgment (okay, maybe also because she's easier on the eyes). In the past, when she wasn't with me, I felt like I wasn't accomplishing anything efficiently. Now, I just missed her presence.

_This isn't right. I've dated many women, but to think the one I have _these_ feelings for has been right under my nose for years!_ I needed to do something fast. It's obvious that she cares for me. Why else do you protect someone (and regret for not doing so)? _I need to find out how she feels about me_.

_Get yourself a wife_! Hughes urged me one specific phone call. _Give a rest_! I retorted, slamming the phone back into its cradle.

* * *

As I was sitting in my office one day, I discussed with myself a very important question: yes or no? Every Fuhrer had a secretary. I don't think it's the best of ideas to make Lt. Hawkeye my secretary. Although she'd be near me, I have my own reasons why it wouldn't be the same. On the other hand, she _would_ be close by. And then I had an epiphany. I'll make her the Fuhrer's _assistant_! There's nothing wrong with that, is there? I answered myself: _Nope. Anyone who knows me also knows I tend to slack off just a little. What's wrong with having someone there to keep me in line?_

I phoned the section of the building she was currently working at. When I asked the answerer to fetch her, she was summoned. "Yes, General?" Hawkeye asked expectantly.

"First Lt. Riza Hawkeye," I answered seriously, "you are now the official Assistant of the Fuhrer. I'm not giving you an option. Now please come here."

I hung up and waited. When she came in, I bade her to write her signature on the official document.

"Sir, this is a blank piece of paper," she said, eyeing me suspiciously.

"You're right," I agreed, faking surprise, "You'd better find someone who can help."

She sighed in exasperation and left on the mission. Meanwhile, I wrote out the following lines:

I, FUHRER PRESIDENT ROY MUSTANG, HEREBY DECLARE THE UNDERSIGNED IS BOTH MY PERSONAL ASSISTANT AND ADVISOR.

Short, simple, and to the point.

Hawkeye returned with a prudent woman by the name of 2nd Lt. Maria Ross. I explained that I only needed Riza's signature.

"But I guess you can be the overseer or whatever of this," I said, turning to Ross.

The two women exchanged glances. Hawkeye gave me a curious glance, and then wrote out a surprisingly unclean signature.

"Welcome to the job!" I cried.

"Well, what will I have to do, sir?" Hawkeye inquired.

"You know, the usual. You've always been my counselor, and you certainly have been there to keep me on task."

"But Col—I mean General—sorry, sir—this is different. You're the leader of the _military_ now. Don't you think it should be run by _you_?"

"I'm asking you to help me like you always have. I trust your judgment. I like to hear your opinions." I remember Ross was there. I dismissed her.

I wasn't going to get my point across this way. "Let's go for a walk, Riza," I suggested. She looked over at some documents and files I had been studying but seemed to decide against urging me to finish what I started.

"Alright," she consented, "but you might as well let me take Black Hayate with us." It turned out that her black-and-white dog had been waiting patiently in the hall.

* * *

Contrary to my earlier plans, we talked little. Despite that, it was very comforting just to be with her. We went around the city and into the park. When I grew tired I didn't say anything about it to Riza. Our time together was too nice to be spoiled.Suddenly, I stumbled and fell. I couldn't get up. "Sorry," I said sheepishly, "I guess we've gone too far."

Riza sighed and helped me onto a nearby park bench. We sat there, again not speaking. The Lieutenant allowed her dog to roam around on his own.

"You did a good job with that dog," I said.

"I told you I would be strict," she replied.

A pause. Then I ventured to explain myself.

"You know," I began,"…there is a reason I…" Why do I struggle?

"Um…," I tried again, "…Lt. Hawkeye…"

"You don't have to say anything, sir."

"…?" I looked at her, surprised.

"I think I know what you are trying to say."

Instinctively, but not purposely, I shot back, "I don't _miss _you if that's what you think! I just need help with…stuff!"

"I understand, sir. Of course I'll help you. Do you want to leave soon? It's getting late."

I muttered about not being able to walk, causing her to say what? I can't hear you, sir, and I said out loud, "I'll try it."

I endured the strenuous walk out of the park, but upon reaching the gate I collapsed again. Hawkeye offered me her shoulder, which I leaned on gratefully.

I was damp with sweat by the time we reached my place of residence. In addition, I was slightly light-headed. I remember sinking onto the couch, and my companion mentioning making tea, but after that I don't remember anything.

* * *

I opened my eye and tried to recollect what happened. _I must have fainted_, I thought, examining the room and coming to the conclusion that it was evening. There were lights on, which meant someone else had turned them on.

"Hello?" I called. My voice was hoarse.

"I'll be there in a minute," a replier called back. Hawkeye was still here.

She came as she had claimed. She placed a cup of what looked like tea on the coffee table next to the couch.

"You fainted," she said quietly, "from exhaustion."

"Mm."

"You know you still have to take it easy, sir."

"It was just a walk. It wasn't taxing."

"You were sweating and even while you slept you were breathing hard."

"I don't need to hear you antagonizing my actions, Lieutenant."

"Don't get cross with me, sir." She sounded tense. Something was coming.

She went on: "If you keep doing small things like this, it'll accumulate and do you know what will happen? You'll get a heart attack and die! Or you could get a stroke." (Author: I swear I read that in research. If it's not true, please tell me! And you have to consider the hospitals they have in the almost-1920s. And if you are AP biology student like me, you'll know why this is possible.)

"Riza…" This was about protection, I knew it. What makes her so concerned for me? But I was somewhat taken aback at what she said. "How did you learn that?" I asked.

"The doctors" was the somber answer.

"Riza…I--" Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to say I'm sorry but I miss you. I was almost annoyed at how sappy this was, but I guess I can't deny emotions. I decided to change the atmosphere.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" I invited.

* * *

Author: okay this is definitely my **LEAST** favorite chapter. when i was writing it, i kept getting stuck.The emotions, i don'tdo a good job ofgetting them across! I really want to know whether this is bad or good, pleasetell me!I pratically hate this section of the story! but it gets better.

The next section you might have to wait a bit for. i don't have it written down. I have this story in a journal, and i've been typing it from there. but I haven't written the next part. **Yay! School is almost out**! I have had a lot of tests, that's why it takes me some time to get the next chapter in.


	5. Ending

knowledge of Fullmetal Alchemist is required for this story and it helps to have seen the last episode of the entire show.

Pishivee:**THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT EVERYBODY!**

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.

love ya Arakawa-sensei!

* * *

Later that night, I said goodnight to her regretfully. Dinner was nice; I managed to get her to come back to the world of the living. 

Though I'm not sure how it happened, I worked developing our relationship into a routine. It went like this: I met here every morning to walk to HQ with her (sometimes we had coffee), we walked home again later in the evening, and occasionally we would have dinner together. As I regained my health, we gradually moved on to real dating. For some reason, however, this didn't feel new.

It was now a year and a half since the fall of Fuhrer King Bradley. I am officially at full health, but of course there are scars that will remain. Sipping tea on a chilly Saturday morning, I thought over what had happened in the last year. The new regime transitioned smoothly and quite successfully. We take care of the occasional resistance group. Levels of recruitment into the military fell then rose. I suppose these people are willing to fight for our new, united country. We are at peace with the Ishvarans, and their land has been recognized as a country.

Alchemists still come to take the National Alchemy Exam, which I oversee. Not knowing what the future has in store for us, I warn the examinees to think carefully before taking the exam. They must consider what could happen in a transition period such as this. Naturally, all National Alchemists receive a lower salary now, due to the military no longer being in control. The same applies to military personnel. Jean Havoc was grumbling about it the other day. I joked with him, reciting, "'Alchemists be thou for the people.' Doesn't it make you feel nice to help people?"

"You mean by giving them our money?" Havoc asked, "No, not really. I can't say that it does."

I drained my cup and looked outside. Snow was falling lightly. People were bundled against the chilling November weather. My attention was drawn to a couple huddled together underneath an umbrella.

With a goal in mind, I left the small café where I had been drinking tea. I walked, bowing against the wind, to a shop I had had my eye on for quite some time now. I entered, stamped the snow off my boots and brushed it off my jacket. I commenced to examine the store's contents.

* * *

After careful consideration, I finally left the store, a small box deep in my pocket. I proceeded to Central HQ. I walked into my office, placed my coat on a rack to dry, and sat down at my desk. I scowled at the thought of all the paperwork I managed to get behind on. So my day consisted of finishing all the damn papers. At least it was finally taken care of. 

It was late afternoon when my task was accomplished. Then I had a great idea. I placed the small box among some books on a shelf. I called Lt. Hawkeye to come in.

"What for, sir?" she asked when she came.

"I lost something," I said convincingly, "Can you help me look for it?"

"Of course, sir. What does it look like?"

I was stuck for a moment. "It's small…a box…it has something precious to me inside. A black box," I finished, "You look there, and I'll look over here. Don't ask me how it got in those books, if it did."

Using her head, Hawkeye headed straight for the books that I had arranged poorly on the shelf.

"Is this it, sir?" Riza asked when she found it.

"Let me make sure." I came toward her to investigate. Taking the box from her hand, I said, "I think so, but let me check." I opened the box, revealing to her a beautiful diamond ring. Her eyes grew wide.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say it before," I said, "but I missed you when you weren't with me. I finally get it now. I love you. Will you marry me?"

Riza'a eyes were shining. It was a while before she spoke. I was afraid she might reject.

"Certainly, sir. Oh Roy," she sighed, "I love you! God damn it, do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?"

In the passionate episode that followed, I saw a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. Maybe I could feel the earth shake, or maybe it was just the footsteps in the hall, because as we let go, applause from Havoc, Fuery, Breada, Armstrong (who was crying and embracing others near him), and many other officers erupted from the doorway.

I looked at the ring on Riza's finger, then looked at the audience and said, "This isn't a peep show!" But I hardly sounded serious through sobs of joy.

* * *

Author: hooray! that is the first time i have ever finished a story! I mean like a long story. This was a short chapter, but then again I hadn't planned on separating this into chapters. 

ROY MUSTANG IS THE COOLEST! I haven't seen the movie, so maybe that is why I could write this story. I am planning on buying it soon. I coulda bought it at megacon in March, but we decided to look around before spending our money, and we came back when we decided we wanted it and it was GONE!


End file.
